“I’m so excited,” Rebecca said.”I’ve never been to a native performance in an authentic setting. I can’t wait for the music to begin.
Not long after they sat a long haired man wearing a colourful red and yellow blanket sat on the ground in front of them. Placing his instruments on the ground in front of him he let out a musical whoop before picking up a recorder like instrument which he played using both his in and out breath. Then using a stick thick with seed pods he hummed and rattled. Vocal chanting was used as well as a high pitched whistle. He was replaced with another performer who sat on his heels and performed – the same song with the same instruments. Followed by another, then another.
“I’m bored,” Gerry whispered but the next performer played a new instrument – a hide strung to a frame. “Wow!” The sound was melodic interspersed with a mellow drumming. “Oh I like this one.”
” It’s not an authentic instrument,” the fellow beside them complained. “He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to play drums or a harp so he went for both. It’s a druarp. “
In response to Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner